


No Far Horizons

by Omorka



Category: Firefly, Ghostbusters (1984 1989)
Genre: Gen, Occult Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-22
Updated: 2010-03-22
Packaged: 2017-10-08 05:23:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omorka/pseuds/Omorka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Peter Venkman walks into a bar and encounters Jayne Cobb.  Hijinks ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Far Horizons

**Author's Note:**

> Contains threats of violence, Chinese cussing, and some real-world occult content. Occurs post-show but pre-Big Damn Movie for Firefly, so might have some spoilers. Thanks to Phil Collins for the title, because I could not come up with one for anything.

Peter glanced down; he hadn't even changed out of his uniform. He tried to remember what he was wearing underneath. Probably jeans, a button-down shirt, and a sweater vest. At least, that was what he vaguely remembered jumping into when the first alarm had gone off at six that morning. He didn't have a pair of shoes to change into, though. Oh, well, at least he wasn't slimed. And he might get a minor celebrity moment out of it. He pushed open the door to the sports bar and walked in.

He blinked against the light, both harsh and dim at once. He wouldn't have expected a sports bar to have a western theme, but this one seemed to, with lots of exposed wood and leather. The other patrons gave him a sideways glance, and edged aside. Some of them looked like rough characters, even for New York; for an instant, Peter wished he was still carrying his pack, too. He thought he saw guns on some of those belts, not even terribly well concealed; he definitely saw a knife or two.

He edged up to the bar, wondering if he'd made a bad choice. There was no neon flickering on the walls, no menu posted, no stack of bottles behind the bar. The bartender turned around; he was a tall, heavyset man with tattoos of horses galloping down his arms. "What'll it be?" He squinted at him. "Don't get too many strangers, and you're the second one in a night. Some kinda convocation happenin' that I don't know about?"

"I dunno. I just picked this place at random, really." Peter cleared his throat nervously. He didn't often run into people Egon would have to look _up_ at. "How about a Miller Light?"

The bartender squinted at him. "Ain't got no fancy beers in here. We got Blue Sun on tap, and the local brew in bottles."

Peter blinked at the thought of Miller being fancy. "Uh, I'll try a Blue Sun, then."

A very large man, the same height as the bartender and broader across the shoulders, edged over. He was wearing a ridiculous cap in yellow and orange, with the ties hanging down, almost in his own drink. "You ain't thinking of making no trouble, are you?"

"No, of course not," Peter protested, hands raised.

"Shoot. I was lookin' forward to some, after that convocation crack." The very large man stood up again. Peter was suddenly glad that he was reasonably tall himself, and spent so much time around Egon; otherwise, he'd have felt like a midget here.

The bartender set a mug of pale beer with a thick head in front of him. "That'll be one-fifty."

Peter fished a dollar and two quarters out of his wallet. "Thanks."

The bartender picked up one of the quarters and turned it over carefully in his hand. His eyes trailed slowly back to Peter's face. "Now, son, I don't know if this is a joke, or if you're an idiot. But we don't take no antiques as payment in here."

"Antiques?" Peter took the quarter back. "It's only dated 1981."

"Mm hmm." The bartender's opinion was clearly sliding towards 'idiot.' "Why don't I just take the beer back, and you can see if you can find someone in town who can tell whether those are real, and give you some actual money for them." He looked up. "Quietly." Peter suddenly realized that several of the ruffians were now looking directly at him.

"Yeah, I think I'll do that." Peter shoved the money back into his pocket and began backing towards the door.

"Tell you what, I'll come with you," said the man in the hat. "Can't say I think much of the service in here." He threw back the last of his bottle and fell into step behind Peter. At least his presence seemed to be deterring anyone else from making any sudden moves.

Peter pushed the door open, and stepped back out into -

A dusty, cobblestone-paved street he'd never seen before.

"What the hell?" he murmured, stopping dead in his tracks. The large man collided with him and sent him sprawling.

"Whoops." The man in the hat leaned over to help him up. "What did you stop like that for?"

"This isn't the street I came in on," Peter explained. It sounded stupid as soon as he'd said it.

"Ain't but one entrance into the bar, unless you came in the loading dock." The large man frowned. "Name's Jayne, by the way. Jayne Cobb."

Peter stopped himself from quoting from "A Boy Named Sue" in time. "I'm Dr. Peter Venkman. Glad to meet you."

"You're a doctor?" Jayne's eyes went up. "We could use a new one on our ship. The one we got comes with a _kuang zhe_ sister."

"Sorry, didn't catch that." Peter was only listening with half an ear, anyway. It had been early evening when he'd walked into the bar in Manhattan, just past sunset, but here it looked like it was mid- to late afternoon; the sun was still two or three hands above the horizon.

He looked at the sun again, obliquely. Somehow, it didn't quite seem like it was the right size or color. That couldn't possibly be right, could it?

Jayne allowed himself a single chuckle. "Haven't kept up your Chinese? The girl's crazy, cuckoo, moon-brained, off her rocker -"

"I get it, I get it." Peter frowned; he'd never practiced professionally, outside of academia, but he still got mildly annoyed at people who trivialized mental illness. Especially since he and the rest of the team occasionally still got called crazies by the more hostile parts of the media. "Okay, just so I know how lost I really am - where am I?"

"Hudson's Settlement," Jayne answered, tilting his head slightly.

Peter blinked against the strangely harsh sunlight; that didn't help him at all. "What state?"

"Huh?" Jayne narrowed his eyes at him. "You a moonbrain, too? Ain't no states around here." He started walking down the dusty street, slowly. " 'Cept maybe the Alliance."

"Alliance?" Peter followed after Jayne, less because he really wanted to continue this conversation than because he wasn't sure he could find anyone else who would talk with him. "Seriously, where am I?"

"I told you already - Hudson's Settlement on New Sedna." Jayne picked up his pace, as if he wasn't sure he wanted Peter following him.

"New Sedna?" Something from one of Ray's comic books flashed through his mind, and he turned away from the sun, eyes still turned to the sky. "Wait - is that a state, a country, a continent, a planet -"

"Moon, actually, but it's the size of a planet for most purposes." Jayne turned around just in time to watch the color drain out of Peter's face. "What's wrong now?"

Peter was staring at the opposite horizon, where the first broad limb of the gas giant was rising, white and pink against the dull blue sky. "I am _so_ not getting back in time for our nine o'clock tomorrow," Peter murmured before the cobblestones came rushing up at him.

\---

"He's not concussed," said a calm voice above Peter's head. A bright light shone into his eyes; he reached out and pushed it away. "Where 'm I?" he mumbled. There was dust in his mouth; he rubbed his sleeve against his tongue and tasted ectoplasm. Right, there was a reason he didn't do that.

"You're on my ship, in my medical bay, because one of my crewmen thought he'd be a good Samaritan and bring you in when you passed out in the street, and my _ben_ doctor couldn't see someone unconscious and not bring him in here." The man who was talking now had unassuming facial features, but his body language said he was someone who was used to having his orders followed.

"I'm much obliged," Peter said to him and the younger man beside the medical cot - presumably the doctor in question.

"Glad to hear it. Don't suppose you'd consider payin' us for the trouble?" the ship's master asked, clearly expecting a "no."

Peter dug into his pocket. "Well, I tried paying the bartender earlier, and he kind of laughed in my face." He handed the buck-fifty to the captain.

The doctor stood up suddenly. "May I see one of the coins?"

"Sure." The captain held up the bill, peering through it at the harsh florescent light above him. Didn't anyone use better light bulbs around here?

The doctor looked at Peter, then at the captain, then at Jayne, then at Peter again. "I've seen these before, in museums. This looks real."

"Way too new to be real." The captain snapped the bill between his hands, straightening it. "But they're remarkably good fakes, considering. Where'd you get 'em?"

"Earth," Peter said simply. He hoped it would get a reaction.

It got one, all right. Every head in the room swiveled to stare at him. "Mind saying that again? Don't think I heard you right," the captain said, his voice dangerous.

"Manhattan, New York, New York, Planet Earth, the Solar System." Peter tracked across their faces. The captain thought he was lying. Jayne was confused. The doctor looked like he might possibly be thinking about believing him on the evidence of the quarter. "Which I'm guessing, from that monstrosity that isn't Jupiter in the sky out there, is not where I am now."

"What year is it?" the doctor asked, speaking before the captain.

"It was 1990 when I looked at the calendar this morning."

"1990 Old System? I mean, Common Era?" The doctor's voice was high and light, as if he were dancing over a conversational pit.

"Common Era, yeah. Although outside of academia it's usually A.D." Peter rubbed at the back of his head. He hadn't hit it too hard; he shouldn't be hallucinating this.

"You're seriously saying you're from Earth-That-Was?" Jayne blurted.

"Still is, where I was." Peter was startled. Did that mean they'd blown it up? Nuclear holocaust? These Wild West types, were they they only survivors? "You're seriously saying I'm on a spaceship? 'Cause that seems just as nuts to me."

"He's telling the truth. At least, it's his truth." A teenaged girl, so thin she almost looked wasted, had slipped in the door behind Jayne. From the frown on Jayne's face, Peter was guessing that was the crazy sister.

Peter looked up at the captain. "Of course I'm telling the truth. Who would lie about something that wacko?"

"Good point." The captain scowled, then offered a hand. "Name's Malcolm Reynolds. You can call me Captain Reynolds for the moment. I know your name's Venkman, since it's printed on your boiler suit, but I don't know if it's first or last."

"Last. I'm Dr. Peter Venkman," he said, shaking Mal's hand. "Ph.D., not M.D.," he clarified to the doctor.

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Dr. Simon Tam," said the doctor, also shaking his hand. "What field, if I may ask?"

"You sure it's a good idea to be giving your name out to strangers?" Mal asked, exasperated.

"If he's from where and when he says he is, it won't make any difference, will it?" Simon replied coolly, then turned back to Peter.

"Psychology and parapsychology," Peter responded, half-automatically.

"Parapsychology? _Really?_" Simon sounded slightly disgusted. "I didn't think any reputable academic institution ever gave out degrees in _that_."

"Only two. Columbia, and UC Berkeley." Peter shook his head slowly; an idea was rattling around in there somewhere. "Mostly studied abnormal psychology and ESP - clairvoyance, psychometry, telepathy - " Something changed in the doctor's face. "Got any experience with any of that?"

"We might," Mal said carefully, looking down at the slip of a girl who had just taken two steps closer, a strange light in her eyes.

\---

Peter glanced around the unused shuttle. Not exactly a perfect place for a psychological consultation or a psychic experiment, but he'd take whatever he could get, at this point. "Why me?" he muttered to the ceiling. "Why not Ray? He's been dreaming about spaceships and other planets since grade school."

"Because he doesn't do what you do," said the teenaged girl - River, the doctor had said her name was - as she held onto the back of the chair and did an _arabesque_.

Peter looked at her quizzically, before unzipping his breast pocket and removing the deck of cards. He never used them anymore, hadn't since they'd gotten kicked out of Columbia - well, no, he'd run one set of tests on Janine and Winston when they were hired. But not since then. He just kept them as a sort of good luck charm, some connection to his old life, before Dana, before Gozer.

Before everything important had happened, except for him meeting Egon and Ray.

He sat down at the small table Mal had provided, in the chair River wasn't using as an impromptu barre. "Okay, River, I'm going to look at the cards one at a time, beneath the table, and I want you to tell me what they are."

"Of course." She looked bored. "Make sure they don't reflect in your eyes; that would make it too easy."

"You know, you're right." She was sharp; he was starting to like her, despite her obviously short attention span. "In fact, you could look away to make it even fairer."

"Fair is foul, and foul is fair." She did a half-pirouette and faced the door.

Peter drew the first card. "Okay, concentrate."

"Oh, they're not normal cards." She sounded slightly more interested. "You're a Knave of Diamonds, but you don't have any. That one's a star."

It was. Peter set the card face-down on the table and flipped over the next one. "Okay."

"A waterfall. Turn it sideways and it's me. Three wavy lines." She paused. "I'd ask how many different symbols you have, but I'll find out."

Peter wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and drew the next card.

\---

"Well?" Mal stared at Peter as he flopped down in one of the much more comfortable wooden chairs around the big table in the galley.

"Three trials of twenty-five cards each. The first time she wasn't even facing me; the second time she was doing some sort of Irish dance over in the far corner of the room, and the last one she was in a yoga headstand thingy against the side wall." Peter set the deck on the table. "She got seventy-four right. The one she missed, she called circle when it was the square, and then corrected herself immediately." He looked Mal straight in the eyes. "I'd say you have a genuine telepath there, Captain Reynolds."

Simon nodded slowly. "Any other observations?"

"She's schizophrenic and aware of it," Peter said flatly. "She also has wild variations in affect that don't seem to be related to the schizophrenia, but might be an empathic variant on the telepathy - picking up other people's moods." He shot Simon a hard glance. "She showed me a set of scars on the back of her head. Said you could tell me more about them."

Sighing, Simon propped one elbow on the table and lowered his chin onto his hand. "She was - kidnapped, and operated on against her will. They removed her ability to filter data. Basically, as far as I can tell, she senses _everything_."

"I only know one genius who's good enough he could survive that and still have a personality of his own left," Peter murmured, "and yeah, he's kind of mad already, but I think that would drive even him round the bend." He straightened up. "So standard anti-psychotics aren't going to do much."

"Mostly they just sedate her, lower all her inputs equally so she can ignore them and get some sleep," Simon agreed. "Her system seems to recognize them after a while, and starts ignoring them."

Peter steepled his fingers. "How about purely mental methods? Has anyone taught her how to ground and center?"

"What's that?" Simon looked faintly puzzled.

"I guess that's a no. Cognitive therapy? Learning to pick out what's her, what's other people, and what's just straight-up hallucination?"

"We've done a little of that." Simon glanced at Mal, who was silently tracing the wood grain of the table. "I haven't gotten much of anywhere with it - I can't tell if she can recognize the difference; if she can, she doesn't seem to _care_."

"Well, maybe if you can calm her down. I'll see if I can teach her the grounding and centering thing, but that's really more my colleague's department than mine." _Colleague. What a word for it._ Peter suddenly missed Ray terribly; he tried not to show it, though - wouldn't look good to go soft in front of these tough outlaw types.

"It's okay. We all miss someone. The stars just aren't right," whispered River suddenly in his ear. Peter almost knocked the chair over in surprise.

\---

"Okay, everyone close your eyes," Peter announced, feeling vaguely out of place. Well, above and beyond being on the wrong planet. He'd expected to just be teaching this to River, but Simon had decided to sit in; whether because he was suspicious of Peter or out of a genuine desire to learn the technique, Peter wasn't sure. Then the ship's engineer had volunteered to join them. She was so perky she was making Peter's teeth hurt; she seemed to have a thing for the doctor, too - too bad; if there were one of her back on 20th century Earth, he'd have tried to hook her up with Ray.

Peter rubbed at the bridge of his nose again. Thinking about the other guys was starting to make him homesick. He'd been away from the firehouse for, by his watch, just over eight hours. It was way past his bedtime, even for a night off, and it was beginning to sink in that he had no idea how to get home.

"Don't be lonely. The universe is full of cosmic rays," River pointed out. Simon and Kaylee both looked at her, Simon with concern, Kaylee in confusion. The room they were in was a little crowded with the four of them; it was a passenger compartment, currently vacant, and the bunk took up most of the floor space.

"I said, everyone close your eyes." Peter waited until all three of them obeyed. "Okay, take a deep breath, from your diaphragm, the bottom of your chest. Inhale . . . exhale . . . that's right . . . breathe deep." His voice fell into the familiar cadence he'd used for trance induction, when he and Ray and Egon had done their hypnosis experiments in college. Whoops, no time to fall down that rabbit hole.

"Okay. Beneath you, there's a pool of energy that belongs to the . . . planet. It's warm, and red, and it flows like a liquid. Inside you, there's an energy, too. Push down with that energy, like a tree pushes its roots into the dirt, until you can feel the planet's energy, and pull it up into yourself, like a plant pulls the water out of the ground." Doing this induction without saying the word 'earth' was tricky; Peter hadn't even thought about that. River swayed a little where she stood; the other two were stock still.

"Now, let the planet's energy flow through you, clearing out any negative thoughts or feelings you're holding on to. Let it flow through your legs, up your spine, down your arms, back up, and through the top of your head." Peter watched; River shook each body part in turn as she came to it. Kaylee opened and closed her hands. Simon was still as a statue.

"Raise up your arms, and let the energy flow out of you, into the sky above you, through your hands and the top of your head, like a tree releases oxygen. As it goes, let it take all the negative thoughts and feelings and carry them away from you." Peter watched them raise their arms, River swaying like a tree in the wind. Simon still had his hands clenched; it took him a couple of tries to open them. What was he holding onto so hard?

Peter cleared his throat softly. "Now, above you, there's another pool of energy, from the stars. It's cool and blue. Just like a tree draws sunlight down through its leaves to turn into sugar, pull down that blue energy in through your hands, through your arms, through the top of your head." He paused to let them visualize it. "Let the star-energy flow down your spine, through your body, down your legs, through the roots you've pushed down, and into the ground below you. As it passes through you, it clears away any extraneous energy, any thoughts or feelings that don't truly belong to you, and washes them away." River shivered. Peter waited until she was done; he suspected that was going to be a lengthy process for her.

"Okay, now feel that place in your body where the two flows of energy, the planet-tide and the star-tide, are equal. Your center." Peter paused again. This time it was Simon who tremored, although it passed quickly. That was odd. "Examine what it feels like to be in balance, for these two opposite forces to be in balance in you. Remember it, so you can find this same space again later."

Peter shifted slightly; standing in one place for this long was making his legs ache. "Now, let the star energy slip back out, through your legs and your spine and your arms and the top of your head. Say good-bye to it, and remember that whenever you need it, you can call it back." He waited a moment, watching their faces carefully; at least Kaylee seemed more relaxed. "Now do the same thing with the planet energy, letting it move back down through your head, your arms, your back, your legs, back into the ground. Say good-bye, and remember that you can call it back whenever you need it." Again, he paused. "Now, take three deep breaths, all the way down to the bottom of your chest, and open your eyes."

He watched carefully as their eyes fluttered open. Simon had a strange expression, as if something had _almost_ happened. River was inspecting him closely, as if she thought she might have missed something before. Kaylee bounced on her toes. "That was _great_! I feel all relaxed now!"

"If that's relaxed, I'd hate to see excited," Peter commented dryly. River rolled her eyes and nodded.

"That was . . . interesting." Simon flexed his hands. "I'm not sure if I actually felt anything, but I don't normally think of myself as terribly suggestible."

"Try it a couple of times on your own," Peter suggested. "That way, if there's any suggestion involved, it's self-hypnosis."

"That will only work planetside," River said suddenly - and lucidly. "How do you do it in deep space?"

"Um, I've never had to," Peter confessed. "I'm generally a both-feet-on-the-ground kind of guy. I guess you could just do the star energy twice."

"I'll contemplate it, and modify the technique accordingly." River nodded, and swept out into the corridor.

Peter followed her and almost crashed into Jayne. "Hey, bruiser," Peter grinned. "Haven't seen you in a bit."

Jayne nodded, and swallowed. "I was just - keepin' an eye on things." He nodded and turned to head after River; Simon had already ducked around them and followed her.

"What was that about?" Peter murmured to no one in particular.

Kaylee answered anyway. "Oh, Jayne just couldn't admit he wanted to learn a little psychic stuff, too, so he was listenin' in at the door. I think it's cute," she pronounced, as she proceeded after the rest.

Peter scratched his head and trailed after them.

\---

"Wake up! Your whirlpool's here," River insisted, dragging Peter out of the chair in the little rec area off the galley.

"What time is it?" Peter looked around wildly, not quite remembering where he was.

"It's _now_," she stage-whispered, stamping one foot. "We have to get you out."

"What's the matter now, _mei-mei_?" Mal asked from the doorway. He looked like she'd just woken him up, too.

She pointed at Peter. "There's a vortex, a cyclonic radiation, and it's looking for him. Things are out of balance." Her glare said quite plainly that she thought they were both stupid.

"You mean you want to go outside of the ship? At this hour?" Mal rubbed at his eyes. "It's not exactly safe out there."

"It won't be safe anywhere if time gets tangled. Angles in the timeline, no good." River started dragging Peter towards the stairs to the cargo bay; for a little girl, she was remarkably strong. Peter stopped offering her any resistance and climbed down the stairs under his own power, before she decided to try and carry him.

"Okay, I'll take your word on that." Mal jogged past them, finding the door control panel as River skipped off the stairs towards the ramp.

Peter peered out into the night as the ramp lowered. He didn't recognize a single constellation. Then again, would he? He was a city boy to the core - he wasn't sure he'd recognize anything except the Big Dipper, Orion, and maybe Leo if he was looking in the right direction. Still, nothing looked familiar at all.

"It's not up there, it's _there_." River pointed into the brush, towards the faint light that must be the town they'd come from. A few more footsteps sounded in the cargo hold; Peter turned around to see Simon and Jayne flanking Mal.

"I guess the lady's saying that's my ride." Peter shrugged and stepped off the ramp.

Immediately, Jayne was behind him. "Ain't safe for one out here. I'll walk with you."

"Okay." Peter wasn't sure what he was looking for. He squinted in the direction River had pointed - was there something glowing that way?

"What the _gui_?" Jayne stopped short. There, that was definitely a light. Peter broke into a run; Jayne shrugged and jogged after him, easily keeping pace.

"Peter!" The voice was faint, but recognizably Ray's. Peter put on more speed; without the pack on his back, this was relatively easy. The light resolved into a circular window in space, spinning slowly. That must be River's whirlpool. On the other side were Ray and Egon; Egon was holding an unrecognizable piece of equipment that might have started life as the guts of a blender. Ray was waving wildly.

"Peter! We found the anomaly you fell through and captured it! Hurry - we've only got enough power to keep this open for another thirty seconds!" Ray was beckoning.

"Don't have to tell me twice," Peter grunted, charging towards it.

"That's - Earth-That-Was." Jayne sounded awestruck. Peter suddenly realized that this, his home, was some mythical origin for Jayne, some Garden of Eden. And he was going back to it.

Peter skidded to a stop. "Here." He reached into each of the jumpsuit's pockets, dug out every coin that lurked in there, unfolded his wallet and dumped out several more pennies and nickels. "Souvenirs. See what you and the captain can get for these."

"You sure?" Jayne stared at the priceless artifacts he'd just been handed - if they could find someplace to sell them that wouldn't arrest them for looting.

"Yup. Thanks for all the help; it's been great." Peter shoved his wallet back into his uniform and sprinted for the break in space-time as it began to wobble in place. He reached out and caught Ray's hands as he pulled him through.

"Take care of that little girl, now!" Peter shouted back through the gate as it shimmied and shrank. Jayne just waved, staring at the grass and trees of Central Park behind him; the gate shook itself, collapsed into a line, and disappeared.

"Wow!" Ray grabbed Peter by the shoulders. "You've been on a journey through massive rifts in time and space, bigger than the Philadelphia Experiment of 1943! How do you feel, Peter?"

He blinked against the early morning sun. It was the right color; he hunted for the moon and found it, heavy and gibbous in the western sky. No bands of pink. "Tired. I didn't get any sleep. Can I go home now?"

Egon glanced at his watch. "I suppose. Janine called to cancel our nine o'clock, and we don't have another scheduled bust until two pm."

"I can at least catch a nap, then." Peter yawned and stretched. "Oh, hey, Zed. They make you carry this out here?"

Zeddemore looked him in the eye. "You think these two could haul all this out into the middle of the park by themselves?"

"Let me give you a hand." Peter leaned down to help Winston lift the spinning hoop apparatus that had been holding the rift. "I'll explain everything as soon as I have a little shut-eye. I'd mess it up if I tried to explain while I'm tired."

Winston shook his head, once. "You're not the only one." He lowered his voice, glancing back at Egon and Ray. Egon's back was stiff as he stared at the meter in his very still hands; Ray looked flushed and drawn. "They may not be pounding you on the back, Pete, but those two haven't slept either. Once they realized that Egon's weird readings meant you'd been sucked out of space and time - I thought they were going to tear the fabric of reality open with their bare hands to get you back."

"Really?" Peter looked over again; Ray's eyes met his for a second, then looked away, but the relief in them was palpable - as were the remnants of his worry. "Well, good to know someone missed me, I guess."

Winston gave him a grin, a small one, as they shuffled back towards Ecto-1A. "You at least end up somewhere interesting?"

Peter snorted. "I ended up _working_."

"Ghost needed busting?" Winston frowned slightly as they settled the apparatus into the back of the old ambulance. "You didn't have your pack; that was one of the first things Ray checked."

"Nah, more like my old job, before we started this one the first time." Peter waited for Egon and Ray to finish gathering up the small stuff and join them. "Except, like it would have been if I'd been doing it right."

For a moment, he thought he heard River giggling behind him, but if she was there, by the time he got his head turned to look, she was gone.


End file.
